The Wrong Side of the Glass
by HaloFin17
Summary: A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Now continuing into a multi-chapter affair. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Enjoy the angst!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no profit from my literary endeavors.

 **Author's Note:** I'm not sure if this will ever progress beyond a oneshot, but the idea won't leave me alone. Poor Bucky (and Steve) must now suffer the wrath of my inspiration. And for the sake of creative expression, I'm conveniently ignoring the fact that the timing for an AU like this probably isn't plausible. But how much really is plausible in these action movies anyway? Enjoy!

 **The Wrong Side of the Glass**

Steve ran.

The instant the power in the complex failed, he had looked to Sharon Carter, who'd told him where Bucky was being held. And then Steve ran. Sam was probably somewhere behind him, but they both knew from personal experience that he wouldn't be able to keep up; and Steve didn't have time to wait for him.

Something about all this just didn't feel right – something beyond the fact that his best friend was sitting as a prisoner in the depths of the most secure building in Germany. His heart had been ill at ease ever since seeing that supposed photo of Bucky at the bombing in Vienna. Surely, if anyone in this world possessed the skill to attack the United Nations in broad daylight and not be discovered as the culprit, it was the Winter Soldier. And if, for some reason, the Soldier wanted to reveal his involvement, wouldn't he be more obvious about it? Why not make a show of that famous arm to declare his animosity instead?

The Winter Soldier could be brilliantly subtle or brilliantly bold…but that picture being broadcasted to the world was a poor example of either approach. It just didn't make sense!

And so Steve ran.

He had to fight his way through a handful of security guards as he neared his destination; their resistance scarcely gave him pause as he incapacitated them all, a fate easily accomplished even without his shield. Sam could deal with any stragglers, but there was simply no time to waste! The closer Steve came to Bucky, the more he knew in his heart that _something_ was terribly wrong.

When he barged through the doors into the room where the Winter Soldier's tiny cell had been deposited, Steve froze in a combination of shock and horror. Bucky was free from the chair to which he'd been so securely bound, now using his powerful left arm to pound away at the cell door in blind, barbaric fury. And circling the cell like a predator in the darkness, with a flashlight in one hand and a small red book in the other, was the "doctor" who had supposedly been sent to give the Winter Soldier a psychological evaluation. The doctor spoke a harsh-sounding word in Russian, and Bucky's efforts actually intensified.

It took only one second for Steve's militant mind to assess the situation; and then, without a single thought for cause or consequence, he hurled himself bodily at the doctor, knocking the smaller man off his feet and interrupting whatever word he'd been about to utter next. He opened his mouth to try again, but Steve never gave him the opportunity. A quick jab with his right hand simultaneously broke the doctor's nose and rendered him unconscious.

That done, Captain America leapt to his feet and rushed to the front of the holding cell, where the Winter Soldier was still doing everything in his power to break free. The assassin's head remained down as he rained blow after blow upon the door, each strike punctuated with a scream wrenched from the depths of his being; a curtain of disheveled dark hair prevented Rogers from seeing his face.

 _He came quietly enough once they caught up to him in Bucharest,_ Steve thought desperately. _What the hell did that doctor do to him in so short a time?_

"Bucky? Bucky, stop! Don't do this, Buck, please!"

At the sound of a new voice, the man on the other side of the glass finally raised his head, and Steve took an involuntary step backward as he looked into the manic eyes of the Winter Soldier. But no – not completely. Something hurting and humane still clung to the corners of the killer's eyes, and once again, Steve knew he had to act quickly.

"Look at me," he demanded without breaking the eye contact. How many times would they have to go through this? He spoke slowly, deliberately, "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you are my friend."

Bucky bared his teeth in a wordless snarl and swung his metal fist once more at the door, but this blow seemed to have slightly less force behind it than the others. Steve latched onto that scant encouragement, praying it wasn't just a product of his biased imagination.

"I'm with you, Buck. Do you hear me? With you to the end of the line – remember?"

Barnes' entire body stopped in mid-swing, and he stumbled backward a step before tripping over the chair bolted down behind him and tumbling to the ground. The Soldier shook his head as though stunned, his breathing loud and ragged as he gracelessly regained his feet.

Standing there helpless, Steve could scarcely keep his own heart from racing away in a dead panic. "Bucky?"

His friend of so many years ago staggered forward, but when Bucky struck the glass this time, the blow was accompanied by a bitter cry of pain rather than rage. It was still enough the finally break the seal on the door, though; Steve could see it. One more hit, and it would come off with frightening ease.

But instead of lashing out again, Bucky slid down the glass to his knees; his vacant blue eyes stared off into nothing. Outside the cell, Steve mirrored his position.

"Stay with me, Buck," he entreated earnestly. Although, at the same time, he did realize that "come back to me" might have been the more appropriate phrase. He rested both palms against his side of the glass, ready to brace it if need be in the face of another strike.

"Bucky, can you hear me? Please, stay with me. It's Steve."

"Ste…" The Soldier's voice came out as a strangled whisper, unable to even finish that one syllable. And his dazed eyes finally drew to a focus not on the Captain's face, but rather on his right hand pressed against the other side of the glass. That gleaming metal arm rose up again; but this time, the fingertips only brushed gently against the transparent surface, as though reaching for Rogers' hand.

Steve's heart clenched, but there was no time for words when another sudden change came over his friend. Bucky began to tremble violently, his breathing growing ever harsher, until at last he jerked to one side and vomited onto the cell floor. Even after his stomach had purged its meager contents, he retched and dry-heaved bile a few more times.

Groaning as though physically in pain, the shaking Soldier then crawled over to the corner of the cell and curled up on himself – head bowed low, with his knees drawn tight against his chest like a frightened child. The groans escalated once more into screams of hopeless despair as he dug both hands into his unkempt hair and pulled.

Again Steve followed the movement from outside the cell; yet for all his worry, he was entirely at a loss about what to do next. A clamp of sorrow and deep regret squeezed the air from his chest as he watched this man so obviously at war with himself. Had Bucky spent many nights under similar distress, suffering all alone in that dim little apartment? Part of Steve longed to simply finish yanking the cell door off himself so he could go in to comfort his friend. But he couldn't see the other's face now, and therefore had no way of telling who had the upper hand in the conflict.

This was the fiercest battle Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier would ever face – the one they constantly fought against each other. As long as Bucky lived, that war would never truly be over; and for all his physical prowess, his mental strength might never be sufficient to keep the Soldier wholly in check. Even now, the efforts to do so racked his body with such convulsions that his shoulders rattled audibly against the glass. How Steve wished he could fight this battle for him!

After what felt like hours, a pitifully weak "Steve?" emerged from the assassin's huddled form.

Steve eagerly pressed his hands against the glass once more, leaning forward as far as he could. "Yeah, Buck, I'm here. I'm here!" Evidently, his friend remembered more than he had let on during their brief conversation in Bucharest.

But Bucky either didn't hear him now or couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. "Steve?" He sounded so very lost, so confused – as though his mind was groping blindly in the dark for the one and only handhold it could still trust.

"Steve…"

The word was a muffled sob this time, and that did it. There was no way Captain America could just _sit here_ on the wrong side of the glass while his best friend of old uttered his name over and over again like a prayer! Now that the scales of his indecision had been tipped in favor of "recklessly sentimental," Steve easily found a grip around the door's broken seal before ripping the damn thing off altogether.

But Sam had finally caught up with him, and it was his disbelieving voice that delayed Steve's entrance into the cell.

"Whoa, Cap, hold on! You're not actually letting him out?"

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It doesn't matter, Sam; that door was about to come off, anyway."

"Yeah, thanks to _him_ ," a rather winded Falcon argued, "which is exactly my point. If he doesn't recognize you, he'll do the same thing to your face, and it'll be the helicarrier all over again. You know how dangerous he is!"

Rogers stood his ground. "If he's asking for me, he'll recognize me. Besides, he's not trying to escape now, even though the door is gone; I'll risk it. If he kills me, you and Nat can write my sorry obituary."

"Right: 'Captain America beaten to death while hugging the Winter Soldier.'" Wilson shamelessly rolled his eyes. "But seriously, Steve, just stop and _think_ for a minute here _._ You already broke the law once trying to help an international fugitive escape the authorities. What will this look like now? You've been here for all of five minutes; and already Barnes is free, the cell is useless, and the doctor is out cold."

That last remark brought Steve's anger surging back to the forefront, supplanting his worry as he sharply retorted, "That's no doctor. Whoever he is, he must have done all of this just to get ten minutes alone with Bucky. So he could draw out the Winter Soldier."

Sam nodded, almost placating. "I believe you, Cap, but I wasn't here to see it for myself. And with no functioning cameras and no witnesses except the Winter Soldier himself to back you up, the task force isn't likely to give your story much credit, either. Although, they will have to admit that _something_ did this to their deadly assassin."

Pressed hard into the corner, Bucky rocked back and forth, still clutching his head and moaning. Indeed, he appeared totally unaware of the door's recent removal and of the conversation taking place only a few feet away.

"Steve?" he whimpered again. "Please…"

His patience gone, Steve at last stepped into the cell, gingerly navigating around the mess. There was barely room for two super-soldier bodies in this tiny space, but he managed to wedge himself between the wall and the chair before crouching down in front of his friend. Bucky's eyes were squeezed shut, and his hands were clasped over his ears as though trying to shut out voices that only he could hear. His mechanical limb clicked and whirred under the strain, and Steve immediately grew alarmed at the pressure being exerted against Bucky's own temple.

"Easy, Buck, don't hurt yourself."

Purely on instinct, he reached for Barnes' hands and drew them away from his head – as gently as possible, considering the amount of effort involved. Lowering the Winter Soldier's arms was like trying to bend an oak branch! It was also the first time Steve had touched Bucky's prosthetic limb in a non-combat situation. He would have expected the metal to feel cold, but it was actually hot now from all the exertion coming off his friend. And it left him wondering: could Bucky's arm distinguish between different temperatures and textures? Did he feel pain when it was damaged?

Thus distracted, Rogers remembered too late that Bucky was still highly unstable right now, and touching him without warning or permission might not have been the best idea. But the deed had already been done. While Steve readied himself for some sort of violent outburst, Bucky's only reaction was to wrap his mechanical fingers around his companion's wrist like a vise – hard enough to bruise even a super-soldier's flesh, but with no real malice behind the pressure. Just a man grasping for an anchor amidst a storm of raw and writhing _fear_. Steve could feel the artificial digits still twitching involuntarily against his skin.

"Bucky?"

At long last, those blue eyes opened; and through his tears, Bucky finally recognized the man kneeling in front of him. When his bloodshot gaze latched onto Steve's face and didn't stray, relief escaped the Captain in an audible sigh. By all appearances, the Soldier had retreated – at least for now.

Bucky swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving Rogers' face, and he grated out in a hoarse voice, "Steve… _help_ me."

It was the hopeless plea of a man caught in a war he didn't expect to win, and Steve's own eyes filled with tears to realize how little he could do to truly help.

"It's all right, Bucky. I'm here now, and I'm not going to leave you. I promise." The words spilled out of his mouth in a rush, an automatic response to this aching need to offer comfort. He didn't look at Sam, who was standing over the still-unconscious doctor; but he could perfectly visualize Wilson shaking his head over how impossible it might be to keep that promise in their present position.

"I could have hurt you." Bucky's breath hitched, and he grimaced. "I _would_ have hurt you, _again_ , if he had finished…"

"But you didn't, Buck. You didn't, and everything's going to be okay. You're back with me now."

Barnes bowed his head, dark hair again shielding him from his friend's regard. "Steve, I can't…"

He trailed off, unable to articulate further, but Steve could guess his meaning well enough. Bucky didn't believe that he could conquer the demons inside his own head, or that he could cope with the consequences when he failed to do so. And in light of what had almost happened here in the last ten minutes, Steve could hardly blame him.

Nevertheless, he obstinately encouraged, "Yes, you can. Remember how you saved me from the river, even though I was your mission? Remember your time in Bucharest, living quietly?" That last bit was entirely a guess on his part, and Steve prayed he wasn't wrong about it! "You can beat this, Bucky. You can! And this time I'll be here to help you."

When the dejected Soldier still didn't acknowledge him, Rogers decided it was time for something bolder – something more concrete to validate his sincerity. Still sitting, he slowly pulled Bucky closer until gravity tipped him forward into Steve's waiting embrace. Bucky sagged against him without a word, utterly drained, with his forehead pressed against the juncture of Steve's neck and shoulder; his metal hand buried itself in the back of Rogers' shirt and clung to it like a lifeline.

Steve, in turn, wrapped one arm around Bucky's shivering shoulders and gingerly laid the other hand on the back of his neck. Barnes' skin and clothing alike were clammy with perspiration, and the muscles under Steve's touch remained rock-hard from coiled tension.

"I could have killed you…" Bucky murmured again, inconsolable at the thought. "All he had to do…was finish the damn words."

"The words in here?" That was Sam now, holding aloft the red book he'd taken from the doctor's limp fingers moments before.

"Yeah, that's the one," Steve confirmed, feeling Bucky's trembling renew in intensity. He tightened his own grip in response and was surprised when the man in his arms spoke again, this time with frantic conviction.

"Don't…let them have it."

But the Captain gently protested, "Buck, we'll need it as evidence against the doctor, to prove what he was trying to do to you."

"No!" Bucky flinched, and his grip on Steve's shirt miraculously tightened. "If they have it…they'll use it. _Please,_ Steve…"

Captain America looked back at his follow Avenger, obviously torn and seeking some kind of guidance.

"I can't make this call for you, Cap," Wilson deferred with a reluctant shake of his head. "You and he both have excellent points."

Steve sighed bitterly, moving his hand to smooth Bucky's hair in what he hoped was a calming gesture. What he really wanted right now was to see that "doctor" subjected to the same type of treatment the Winter Soldier had endured over the past few hours. But how could he best handle this situation without betraying Bucky's trust and inviting the same disaster all over again?

"Hold onto it for me, Sam," he decided at last. "We can show it to Ross and the others, but I'm not going to let them study it. After we make our case against the doctor, I swear I'll burn it – even if that means I end up in a cell next to him."

"As long 'him' means Barnes and not the doctor, I don't think you'd mind that too much," Falcon grimly observed. "But it's gonna have to be a different cell. This one didn't exactly work out as planned."

That much was true; the Winter Soldier had made a mockery of the U.N.'s "extensive" security measures. Although, if he was perfectly honest, Steve couldn't help feeling a little proud of him as a result. Because it proved that Bucky could have tried to escape at any time, provided he didn't care about the resulting casualties; but he had resisted the temptation – at least, for as long as he was still _Bucky_. Or perhaps, despite all his running in Bucharest, he had simply resigned himself to his fate; perhaps, deep down, he didn't see himself as worthy of anything different.

The thought alone brought fresh tears to Steve's eyes, and he briefly rested his chin on top of Bucky's head. Life just wasn't fair. It hadn't been fair in 1945, and it certainly wasn't fair now! But it seemed especially unfair to this man who had just been taken apart and left in pieces by nothing more than a few _words_. It wasn't fair that James Barnes had been corrupted into the Winter Soldier; not fair that the Winter Soldier had been brainwashed to fight his oldest friend to the death; not fair that the Winter Soldier had been ripped from a relatively peaceful existence, all because of a crime he didn't commit. All because one more bastard had wanted to take advantage of his mind and use him.

Steve glanced around at the damage on all sides and fought to ignore the cloak of despair settling over his own heart. Sam did have a point, after all; he usually did. How were they possibly going to explain all of this? Additional security would arrive at any second now. Was there any way Steve could use these events to steer the future in a different direction? Preferably a direction that didn't involve surrendering Bucky into the hands of a vengeful monarch?

As if sensing his protector's grim thoughts, Bucky let out an exhausted sigh of his own and rubbed his head against Steve's shoulder. He was much quieter now, his panic seemingly diminished although not wholly vanquished. It was strangely tranquil in that moment; as if both men could sense that this might be their last opportunity to simply rest in each other's presence. Sam stood in respectful silence outside the cell, guarding the red book and no doubt watching for the arrival of intruders upon their privacy.

Steve rubbed soothing circles on Bucky's back, but already his heart ached at the understanding that this serenity could not last. Decades ago, the grief of losing Bucky had nearly devastated him; and only now, here in this cell, did Steve finally feel like Bucky had truly come back to him. How could he survive all that grief and wretched loneliness again if he lost him a second time? He knew he would do absolutely everything in his power to help his friend – but he also knew too well that sometimes even Captain America wasn't strong enough to save the people closest to him.

He could hear voices approaching now, shouting in both English and German; they would be here soon. Ultimately, in a moment of morbid humor, Steve could only conclude that everyone involved had gotten a hell of a lot more than they'd bargained for with this "psychological evaluation."

 **Author's End Note:** This is possibly TBC. I have some ideas for progressing this storyline, but I'm not sure yet if I can work out all the details in a plausible manner. Nevertheless, I do promise I will try, and feel to leave suggestions for future chapters in a review! I suspect I may need all the help I can get on this one. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Now continuing into a multi-chapter affair. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no profit from my literary endeavors.

 **Author's Note:** In order to appease both popular demand and my own conscience, this story shall continue. Many thanks to everyone who encouraged me to do so while reviewing the first chapter! It probably wouldn't be happening without you guys. Special thanks also goes to my sister and to my dear friend **Trollmela** for their brainstorming to help me overcome future obstacles in this fic. You girls are the best! I have no idea if the storyline will move forward in a way people envisioned, but I do hope it will be an enjoyable read all the same.

 **The Wrong Side of the Glass**

 **Chapter 2**

"There had better be a _damn_ good explanation for all of this!" For a small man, Everett Ross could be quite intimidating when he put his mind to it.

Power had been restored to the building, and now the room containing the Winter Soldier's holding cell was also occupied by Ross himself, Sharon Carter, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, King T'Challa of Wakanda, and as many heavily-armed security guards as the limited space would permit. Sam Wilson still stood there among them, holding the red book out of sight under his jacket until the moment was right for its revelation.

Barnes and Rogers, meanwhile, had extricated themselves from each other's grasp but still sat side by side on the cell floor with their backs against the glass. Bucky's metal hand still held to the hem of Steve's shirt with a death-grip, as though he would be swept away and lost forever if he let go. As yet, no one had dared try to separate them or even suggest it.

Ross wasted no time getting down to business. "Who let him out?"

"He did that himself," Steve supplied, laying his own hand reassuringly on Bucky's left wrist. "But as you can see, he's still here."

"And how about the doctor? Did he do that, too?"

"No – I did." Rogers' voice was as unyielding as his vibranium shield. "If I hadn't stopped him, people would be dead right now, and your troops would still be trying to subdue the Winter Soldier. That doctor is the man you want, Ross – not Bucky."

Everett raised his eyebrows, by all appearances most amused. "Really? You're telling me the CIA should be more concerned about an unconscious psychiatrist than the most accomplished killer of the last century?"

"With all due respect, Sir," Sharon Carter broke in, "I agree with Captain Rogers that we need to investigate this further, especially in light of all that's happened here. The circumstances are too suspicious."

She made a sweeping gesture to encompass the ruined cell and the liberated, although currently docile, assassin inside it. Truthfully, she had been uneasy ever since her conversation with Steve just before the power went down – the idea that someone might have framed the Winter Soldier in order to flush him out of hiding. But for what purpose?

"I'm going to call Geneva and verify whom they sent to us," she declared, without waiting for her boss's permission, and left the room.

In the meantime, Tony Stark had stepped forward to snap a picture of the doctor's slack face with his phone. "FRIDAY, run a facial recognition scan for me, please."

It didn't take long for his AI to identify the man as Helmut Zemo, formerly a coronel in the Sokovian intelligence community. The congregation barely had time to process that information, however, before Zemo himself stirred at Sam's feet and sat upright. A pair of security guards immediately hauled him to his feet and held on tightly, despite his frantic protests.

"Wait, wait! What's going on here?" He pointed a quivering finger at the cell. "The Soldier…he tried to escape as soon as the power went down."

"Then how come he's still here with the door wide open?" Sam challenged.

Zemo shook his head. "It's all a trick! He said he was going to kill me."

"You lying son of a bitch," Steve growled dangerously. He would have risen to his feet for this confrontation if Bucky's terrified grip on him hadn't prevented it. "If he did kill you, it would be no less than you deserved. I saw what you were trying to do! Once you controlled him, you could turn him loose on the rest of us. _You_ were behind the bombing in Vienna and the power failure here. You set all this up just to get ten minutes alone with the Winter Soldier. Why? Are you with Hydra? What do you want with him, or with any of us?"

"Hydra means nothing to me now, and it never has. I want only to see an empire fall." The Sokovian colonel's struggles against the guards had now ceased altogether. The pretense of panic had left his face, replaced by a visage that was calm, calculating, and not a little unnerving. Notably, he hadn't denied any of the allegations levelled against him by Captain America.

"Mission report, _Soldat._ December 16, 1991."

All eyes turned to the Winter Soldier, whose entire body stiffened visibly beside Steve. His eyes lost their focus, and his breathing rate increased.

Zemo smiled cruelly. "You see, _Soldat_ – even without the words, you remember what happened that night. And I'm sure you do too, Mr. Stark. After all, losing both parents on the same day is not something any man could easily forget."

He now looked to Tony, whose expression had likewise grown stony and withdrawn. "But did you never wonder about how they died? A car accident can so easily be staged – and the Winter Soldier knows when not to leave his mark."

Oddly enough, no one moved; and for a time, the only sound in the crowded room was Barnes' labored breathing.

Tony stared at Zemo, his jaw taut; but when at last he broke the silence, his address was directed elsewhere.

"Steve, isn't this where you're supposed to butt in and say that your old pal is being falsely accused again?" Despite Stark's flippant choice of words, his voice wavered with violent emotions just waiting to be unleashed upon a target.

And Steve said nothing. He wouldn't even look at Tony – only at Bucky, who had retreated into himself as one of his worst nightmares unfolded into painful reality.

"It is true, isn't it?" Tony Stark was no super-soldier, yet he radiated such potent rage in that moment that no one dared approach him. "It's true, and you _knew_ all along, you self-righteous bastard!"

"Only for a couple of years, but yes…I knew." Rogers finally met his teammate's betrayed brown eyes and saw nothing short of murder there. Steve had seen that look before, in more than one battle…but he had never dreamed that it would one day be directed at him.

Stark's feet moved as though acting on their own accord, carrying him with deadly determination toward the two men inside the cell. Steve braced himself for yet another unwelcome fight, ready to battle a new friend in the defense of an old one; but Natasha intervened first.

"Tony, stop." She boldly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. "Barnes will be punished for what he's done – but not here, not now, and _not by you._ "

The eerie stillness in Romanoff's posture suggested that she was more than ready for a fight if it came her way. They all knew Iron Man could defeat Black Widow, but Tony Stark as himself didn't have a prayer of doing so.

"Listen to me, Stark," Natasha tried again, keeping her voice purposefully low. "Steve is your teammate and your friend. Don't do anything now that you'll regret later."

After a long moment, Tony finally backed out of the Widow's personal space; but the hateful glare he directed over her shoulder at Barnes and Rogers never faltered. "You're damn lucky I don't have a suit here – both of you!"

He then turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, taking most of the tension with him, but the issue itself remained. The issue that Captain America and the Winter Soldier had simply traded one dangerous, grieving orphan for another; personally, Steve would have preferred the Black Panther as an enemy over Iron Man.

"I lost everyone that day you blew Sokovia to hell, Captain Rogers. And now you will, too."

Zemo offered no resistance whatsoever as the guards led him away, with T'Challa at the head of their little procession. And yet, every step of the way, the colonel's face bore the undeniably satisfied smirk of a man whose work was well and truly finished.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, further interrogations and investigations had verified Helmut Zemo as the mastermind behind the Vienna bombing, as well as the murderer of the true psychiatrist who had been sent to evaluate Barnes in Berlin. They hadn't even needed the red book to prove his guilt, in which case Steve had made an executive decision to keep the manuscript a secret. It might have helped convict Zemo, if necessary, but it truly was best for Bucky that as few people as possible ever learned of its existence. Not even the CIA needed to know that there was basically a handbook on how to activate and control the Winter Soldier.

But even though Bucky had been cleared of this most recent crime, he was still the Winter Soldier – guilty of dozens of assassinations, including the murder of Howard and Maria Stark; and the CIA wasn't about to simply release him. Steve understood their decision, but that didn't mean he had to like it or agree with it.

In typical bureaucratic fashion, the task force responded to Barnes' demolishing the old glass box by putting him in a "bigger and better" glass box, with supposedly stronger restraints. They also decided that, from now on, Bucky was to be surrounded by half a dozen armed guards at all times, even while in the cell. Steve secretly scoffed at both security measures, seriously doubting that either would be effective in stopping the Winter Soldier if he were to put in another appearance.

But Captain America nearly wept anew when he finally made Bucky let go of his shirt; he felt like he'd just kicked a lost puppy! And judging by the hurt look in his friend's eyes, like a kicked puppy is exactly how Bucky felt. Fortunately for everyone, Barnes didn't resist when they strapped him down into the new chair; but through it all, he stared at Steve with wide eyes that clearly implored, "Don't leave me!"

"It's okay, Buck," Rogers assured him steadily. "I'm still here – see?"

And Steve did stay, just outside the glass – even if he was on the wrong side again. Ross protested against it at first, until Steve reiterated that his presence had been the only thing to prevent a Winter Soldier killing spree not long ago. And in light of Zemo's recently-confirmed actions and intentions, even Ross had to admit, however grudgingly, that they at least owed Rogers that much. Barnes was obviously calmer with Steve close by, and a calm Soldier was far less likely to break free again.

No doubt part of the guards' duty included keeping Captain America in check, if such a thing was even possible; but Rogers didn't want to give them any trouble – not yet, anyway. Their constant presence did make things a little awkward, though. So as much as Steve might have been tempted to wade into the waters of deeper conversation with his "captive" audience, he kept things deliberately simple between himself and Bucky instead – bringing up pleasant memories of nearly a century ago and hoping against hope that his friend would remember along with him.

"Remember the time when…" soon became his most common phrase.

Regardless of whether he remembered or not, Bucky seldom responded to his companion beyond an occasional nod or a flicker of recognition in his eyes; he very rarely spoke, much to Steve's disappointment. But even so, the Captain remained convinced that Barnes would rather have him near than be left alone again.

Bucky clearly distrusted the guards around him, flinching at their movements whereas previously he would have ignored them altogether; and when his eyes weren't fixed on Steve, they were anxiously darting to and from each of the black-clad sentinels. The encounter with Zemo had left him badly shaken, knowing now that his trigger words were no longer a Hydra exclusive. They could potentially come from anyone, anywhere, at any time. No wonder he so often looked to be on the verge of panicking!

Steve even dozed off there once or twice, sitting with his back against the glass and armed guards on all sides; he never knew if Bucky managed to sleep at all during that time.

And he had no idea what time it was when Sam poked his head in to ask, "Hey, Man, you wanna get something to eat?"

Rogers responded with a melancholy shake of his head. At least security outside the room had let Falcon in to see him; that was a definite improvement! "No thanks, Sam. I'm good here."

Wilson nodded his understanding. "That's what I figured you'd say, but I still thought I'd offer. I'll bring you back something." He then gestured toward Barnes. "Are you protecting him from Stark?"

"From Stark or from the next lunatic who decides to try something clever."

"You never know – they might end up being one and the same person."

Sam grinned with that comment and very nearly coaxed a smile from Steve himself; their amusement, however, was short-lived.

"How is Tony?" Steve asked tentatively, and Wilson at once sobered in turn.

"He's been making a lot of phone calls, going to a lot of meetings. I hate to say it, but things aren't looking so good for your buddy here, Cap."

"Yeah." Steve let out a long, frustrated sigh and studied his self-appointed charge once more. Bucky's head was tilted back, eyes closed. He looked relaxed, but judging by his friend's breathing, Rogers doubted very much that he was actually asleep. He could probably hear everything they were saying.

Falcon took off soon afterward, leaving Steve with nothing but his own morbid thoughts for company.

An hour later, at the same time the guards around the cell were changing shifts, it was not Sam but Natasha who entered with a plate of food for Captain America. He accepted it from her with a soft "Thanks, Nat," only to set it down beside him untouched. Bucky still appeared to be resting or reflecting or whatever he was doing with his eyes shut.

Natasha took a seat next to her teammate on the cold floor and observed, "No one's sent you a chair or a cushion?"

Steve shook his head and tried to make light of it. "Nah. Ross probably doesn't want to encourage my behavior, but it doesn't matter. I'm fine."

"Are you really?" she pressed, sounding like she already knew the answer.

"Honestly? No," he confessed. "This isn't exactly the reunion I had envisioned over the past two years, and there's so little I can do to help him."

Natasha reached over to gently squeeze his knee. "Even if it's not much, you're still doing all that you can – probably more than you should. No one can ask or expect any more of you than that."

While Steve appreciated the warm sentiment behind her words, he couldn't find any comfort in them. Without meeting her keen eyes, he quietly divulged, "The last time I did all I could, it wasn't enough. I _lost_ him, Nat. I failed him, and he suffered for it so much worse than I did. Now he's back with me, in spite of everything...and it's like I'm watching him fall all over again. Only more slowly this time."

He had to stop now, the words catching in his suddenly tight throat; Natasha patiently waited for him to compose himself and continue.

"So much about this whole situation is just _wrong_. Zemo is the guilty one here, yet Bucky will ultimately pay for the bombing in Vienna every bit as much as he will. And now everything going on with Tony…I thought it would be better for all of us if I didn't tell him about his parents. But now I realize that I was just trying to protect myself – and Bucky."

"Remember, Steve, I was there too," Black Widow gently reminded him, "in Zola's databanks when we first found out about Stark's parents. And I never told him anything, either."

That caught Rogers' attention. "Does he know that you knew?"

"No, not yet, but I was thinking of telling..."

"Don't do it, Nat," Steve interrupted her. "Please, for all our sakes. Tony doesn't need another blow like that, and I would rather carry this burden alone than make you share it with me. Your shoulders don't need any more weight."

His words put a grateful little smile on her face. "You really are a good friend, Steve Rogers – better than either Barnes or I deserve."

With one last pat on his shoulder, Natasha gracefully rose to her feet and left. Once she had gone, Steve started picking at the meal on his plate, which had long since gone cold. His super-soldier body was plenty hungry, as usual, but tonight he just didn't have much of an appetite.

 **Author's End Note:** So, even though Zemo didn't get the theatrical revelation he'd been hoping for, I imagine he's much too clever and determined to let all his previous planning go to waste, once he realizes he's caught. That's the way I see it playing out, at least. TBC. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Now continuing into a multi-chapter affair. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no profit from my literary endeavors.

 **The Wrong Side of the Glass**

 **Chapter 3**

Thankfully, Tony Stark himself never stopped by the holding cell for a visit, but Iron Man's activity behind the scenes was enough to make Sharon Carter call a secret meeting with Rogers and Wilson to discuss all the latest developments. Security around Flacon and Captain America had lessened after the revelation that Barnes was indeed innocent of the murders in Vienna, and since then, the good Captain had done nothing but help keep the volatile Winter Soldier compliant. Their gathering marked the first time Steve had left Bucky's side for more than a few minutes since the incident with Zemo; yet as much as he hated to do it, circumstances had grown dire enough to merit the separation.

"Things almost would have been easier the way they were before," Sharon concluded grimly. She had gone to great lengths to ensure that there were no bugs or cameras in this particular room. "Tony Stark has just as much influence worldwide as the King of Wakanda, perhaps even more in the U.S., and he's done everything in his power to get the Winter Soldier extradited to America – which is going to happen. It was just announced that they'll be moving him tomorrow."

"Are they transferring him to a psych center or anything like that?" Sam asked in concern.

Sharon shook her head. "No, it'll be the best high-security prison our nation has to offer – probably one upgraded with all sorts of exclusive tech from Stark Industries. Once Barnes is there, I'm sure Stark will start leveraging his influence again to have him executed. Unfortunately, I don't think it will be too difficult."

"But that wasn't really him," Steve protested angrily, knowing full well that he was preaching to the choir. "I understand why Tony's upset, but Hydra is responsible for all those murders, not Bucky!"

"That argument could be made, Cap," Sam interjected softly, "but apart from you, no one else is likely to make it for him. So far, he hasn't even made it for himself. It still doesn't change the fact that he killed _a lot_ of people over a long period of time."

Sharon added, "And with Stark pulling strings and calling in favors at every opportunity…let's just say it'll be extremely difficult to prevent a death penalty from being issued."

Rogers sighed deeply and rubbed his tired eyes. "That's what Tony wants – an execution. But I can't let it happen. I won't lose Bucky again, and especially not like this."

"Then you'd better act now, before he's relocated to the States," Sharon urged him. "If you're planning to do something else crazy and technically illegal, it will be even more difficult over there."

"I'll go after him in-transit, then," Steve resolved with surprising speed, "before they get him loaded on the plane here. I don't have anything else to lose now – except my friend, if I do nothing. You two don't have to help me, though; you've done more than enough already."

At that, Sam exchanged glances with Sharon and almost laughed. "Steve, Buddy, you are gonna need all the help you can get on this one. We've been with you every step of the way so far, and we're not about to ditch you when you need us most. Besides, I think we're all in this too deep to back out now."

Steve felt his throat close up with emotion, yet he managed to nod and say with a relatively straight face, "Thank you – both of you."

Wilson saw straight through him anyway. "Don't get all choked up on me there, Cap. But again, do us a favor, and let's think this all the way through. Are you _sure_ this is what you want to do? Because there may not be any coming back from it – ever."

Rogers nodded, as unshakably confident as ever. "I'm sure. I've been thinking about it a lot recently; and at this point, I have to believe Bucky will have a better chance of surviving if he disappears again, rather than if he takes his chances in the legal system. He managed just fine on his own for two years, and this time I'll be right there with him."

"You and me both," Falcon reminded him sternly. "All right, then. You just tell us what the plan is, and we'll make it happen."

Like most of Captain America's plans, this one was fairly simple and would rely heavily upon his superior strength and combat skills. While Sam had seen that approach work far too many times in the past to question it now, one thing still troubled him.

"Steve, assuming this all works, and we do get away from here in one piece…where are we supposed to go?"

Rogers' steely expression never wavered. "Don't worry. I can think of a good place."

* * *

The following morning, Sam's report launched the beginning of their Great Escape.

"I'm in position outside the building, Cap."

"Good," Steve whispered back from his own place of concealment. "Hold there until I give the signal."

"Acknowledged."

Thanks to Sharon's efforts the previous evening, Falcon had now regained his wings, and Captain America was once more appareled in all his star-spangled glory – including the shield. Young Miss Carter had also provided them with as much inside intelligence as she could in the hours leading up to this moment, but now her role in the whole rescue operation was finished.

And although Steve hated to think about how much trouble she would be in when all this was said and done, Sharon's trials weren't his only source of guilt at the moment. He hadn't gone back to Bucky since leaving his cell the night before, and to say that he felt terrible about it was a grotesque understatement.

Bucky most likely believed (as Steve also suspected) that the two of them would see precious little of each other once the Winter Soldier's extradition was accomplished. Did he feel disappointed or even abandoned right now, in Rogers' glaring absence? What if he thought that Steve, as Captain America, had more important things to do than keep a convicted murderer company for hours at a time? God willing, Steve's actions would very soon make up for any hurt feelings or misunderstandings!

The tactical team had their prisoner in motion now, transporting his cell through the upper levels of the building so they could access the jet waiting for them on the rooftop. After their procession had reached the highest floor, but well before they made it onto the roof, Steve gave the verbal signal to launch Sam into motion.

With the vast majority of security focused on Barnes' progress, Falcon flew up to the landing pad where a quinjet sat ready to relocate the Winter Soldier to America. It was one of the newest models, of course, equipped with all the latest weapons and technology; but most importantly of all, it boasted a highly-advanced stealth mode, such as Dr. Banner had used to disappear from the world a year ago.

Four foot soldiers stood guard around the jet, plus one pilot. Wilson surprised them by dropping down from the air above, and after incapacitating all five of them all, he took off in the jet. He and Rogers had both learned how to pilot as part of their Avenger training, although Falcon still preferred to operate his own personal set of wings whenever possible.

His attack on the landing pad had caused a building-wide disturbance that would hopefully draw some of the security away from Barnes, as Steve was supposed to be carrying out his part of the plan simultaneously.

* * *

Meanwhile, immediately after giving Sam the go-ahead, Captain America crawled out from the air duct where he had been hiding. (Hawkeye would be so proud of him!) He raced down the hall to where he knew he would soon catch up to the rearguard of Bucky's escort; but upon rounding the very first corner in his path, Rogers came to a dead stop at the sight directly in front of him.

Natasha.

Naturally, she knew him well enough to guess that he would try something drastic like this now. The Black Widow was dressed for combat, though she made no move to waylay or detain him – yet.

"Nat?"

Steve distinctly felt his heart speed up in alarm, bordering on panic. He _really_ didn't want to hurt Natasha here, but she was too formidable a fighter for him to simply brush her aside. Even more worryingly, he had no time for this! _Bucky_ had no time for this.

Both Avengers held their breath for a long moment, staring across the space between them where the tension had become almost palpable.

"Natasha, please…" He left the request open-ended, not knowing what else to say. _Please don't fight me. Please don't make me hurt you. Please don't make me lose this chance to save him._

No doubt Romanoff heard all three entreaties in those two simple words. Her face an expressionless mask, she finally addressed the Captain in a low voice:

"In about twenty seconds, the security cameras in this facility will all go dark. You'll have at least a minute and a half, maybe two, before they come back online."

Steve felt his jaw drop, momentarily speechless. When he did speak, he could only stammer, "Thank you, Nat. I…I owe _you_ one now."

A partial smile quirked one side of her mouth upward. "Who's keeping score? Now get out of here, you're wasting time. I'm about to do the same. Good luck, Steve."

Black Widow stood there motionless as Captain America darted past her to carry on his righteous little crusade. While the two of them may not have agreed on the Accords, Steve Rogers was still her friend, and today she had surely made him proud. As the man himself was so fond of preaching, she had simply "done the right thing," regardless of what the outside world believed.

Natasha understood Tony's motives, she truly did; he was a hurting man whose deep pain had caused his distinction between justice and vengeance to become blurred. But she could no longer approve of his pursuing Barnes' demise with such blind fervor. It wasn't emotionally healthy for Stark, for one thing. Furthermore, she knew better than most people what Hydra could do to the human mind and body – how Barnes never had any choice in his deeds as the Winter Soldier, and how he would have already suffered for them in every way imaginable.

But at the same time, she also realized that neither Steve nor Tony would bend on this matter; and if those two immovable forces kept pushing against each other, it was only a matter of time before one of them broke apart altogether. The consequences of such a fallout would be detrimental not only to Iron Man and Captain America, but to every single one of the Avengers and their associates. In the end, she could only hope that her intervention had helped prevent the chasm between her two teammates from growing even wider.

And now that the deed was done, it was time for her to conveniently disappear. Not that she was worried, of course. Natasha Romanoff was a big girl, more than capable of taking care of herself.

As was Sharon Carter.

* * *

Tony Stark and the new King of Wakanda observed the Winter Soldier's transport remotely from the control room. They would each be returning to their respective countries shortly, T'Challa with Zemo in his custody. Tony, for his part, didn't trust himself to be anywhere near Barnes right now. He'd probably put a bullet through the assassin's troubled skull, which would doubtless result in a mountain of paperwork and tedious legal proceedings. For once, he preferred to follow protocol this time. As long as Barnes ended up on American soil, Tony could almost guarantee the man's death; or, at the very least, he could guarantee a miserable existence, befitting the monster who had murdered his parents.

Everett Ross stood there in the room with them as well, drumming his fingers against his folded arms with nervous energy. The Soldier's escort had just reached the uppermost levels of the building when, all of a sudden, the screen from every single security camera went black. Ross looked like he was about to have an aneurism and immediately started shouting at anyone and everyone who was close enough to hear him.

The panic fueled Stark's initial reaction to being "blind," until anger very quickly rose above every other sensation. This had to be Rogers' doing! He should've known that idiot would attempt a rescue, no matter how cooperative he had been over the past few days. They couldn't let Barnes escape now!

Where the hell was Natasha when he needed her? It had been a couple of hours since he'd last seen her, but even Black Widow wouldn't be able to handle both Rogers and Barnes, if the Winter Soldier was freed from his cell again. As for his other Avenger options, Colonel Rhodes was still supervising cleanup in Bucharest, Vision was monitoring Wanda in the States, and he himself had not brought a damn Iron Man suit to Berlin. He had one gauntlet at his disposal, but that would last about two seconds in hand-to-hand combat against Captain America.

"T'Challa," he snapped with sudden inspiration, "hurry and get your suit on! Together, you and Romanoff can at least slow them down until more reinforcements arrive." Clearly, the billionaire had no qualms about giving orders to a monarch.

But T'Challa didn't budge; physically, he gave no indication that he had heard Tony at all. "I already have my father's killer," he answered stoically. "The Black Panther's work in this place is finished."

Tony's eyebrows shot upward in disbelief. "Um, hello, earth to Panther? This is still a mass murderer we're talking about here. Does it not bother you at all that we're letting him get away?"

The young Wakandan remained impassive, truly unruffled by Stark's raging emotion. "If not for my interference, Sergeant Barnes might have escaped in Romania, where all he wanted was to live in peace. I will not stand between him and his freedom again."

As his ire mounted ever higher, Iron Man clenched both hands into fists at his sides, looking for all the world like he would love nothing more than to punch the man sitting in front of him.

It must have shown, for T'Challa regarded him coolly and remarked, "If you want my country as your enemy, then by all means, Mr. Stark – hit me."

 _And kiss your future supply of vibranium goodbye,_ was the loudly unspoken message there.

Tony breathed deeply through his nose in a meager effort to calm his temper, but it did nothing to pacify his livid soul. Because even though he couldn't see it, he _knew_ the Winter Solider was escaping – and there was nothing he could do about it.

* * *

Steve moved even faster now, knowing that he had an upcoming window of no camera activity. Originally, he had picked a blind spot in the cameras as the place to attack the guards surrounding Bucky, but this would serve much better. Rogers' purpose lent him greater focus and efficiency than he could recall from any previous mission; the sixteen German guards couldn't possibly match his passion! And since all of them were "only human," Captain America and his shield did what was necessary to render each of them unconscious – a task reminiscent of his battle in the SHIELD elevator two years ago.

Beforehand, Steve had entertained concerns about whether Bucky would be as eager to escape as his friend was to help him escape; he needn't have worried. By the time the last guard hit the ground, Bucky had already wrenched himself free of the chair and was on his feet inside the cell. And he hadn't been in any mortal danger while Steve took care of the guards because, naturally, the glass was bullet-proof. As Steve had suspected, the "new and improved" restraints had likewise given way to the motivated Fist of Hydra.

 _Good job, Bucky._

A "Hulk-proofed" chamber might have done the trick to contain him, but the nearest one of those was back in America – in the sublevels of the Avengers compound, which Steve could no longer be certain he would ever see again.

But now Bucky was the one on the wrong side of the glass, so Steve gladly hit the controls to let him out of the cell. While his old friend did look grateful to see him there, he was obviously more surprised by the intervention than anything.

"I hope you didn't think I was gone for good," Rogers assured him warmly. "I promised I wouldn't leave you, Buck."

Barnes didn't respond at that moment, which truly was just as well; the two super-soldiers didn't have time to say anything more.

Steve led the retreat as they sprinted toward the designated rendezvous point with Falcon, pausing only once to rip open another air vent and grab two bags that had been stashed inside – one a duffel filled with various essentials and extra clothing, and the other a very familiar black backpack. Steve shouldered the former and handed the latter to Bucky who did the same, with shock and relief etched in equal measure across his features. But again, now was not the time for questions.

"Sam, we're on our way!" Steve shouted into his com and received exactly the answer he'd been hoping to hear.

"Ready when you are!"

They had reached the end of a long hallway, with a floor-to-ceiling window directly ahead of them. Steve shifted his shield in front of his body and jumped, crashing through the glass that scattered away in tiny pieces like thousands of water droplets. Bucky followed his example with neither question nor hesitation. Wilson had the quinjet in perfect position to catch them, with the entry ramp open and waiting, and both fugitives landed there safely.

But before they could secure themselves inside, Sam was forced to abruptly yank the jet sideways and give it full acceleration in order to avoid gunfire now coming from the complex. Barnes and Rogers both lost their footing with the sudden movement, their bodies thrown backward toward the open air gaping behind them. Steve grasped wildly for a handhold, very nearly latching onto a strut, but then another lurch from the jet caused his fingers to slip.

Captain America slid from the ramp and would have taken the hardest fall of his career, possibly a fatal one – if not for the Winter Soldier who caught him by the wrist with his right hand, his left still clinging to the jet in a mechanized grip that wasn't likely to be broken by anything. Both men swayed perilously in the wind for a moment, until Bucky grit his teeth and hauled Rogers one-handed up above his head in a tremendous feat of strength, so that Steve could climb back inside the jet and then turn around to help his friend follow suit.

A handful of helicopters had risen into the air to give chase by then, but with its superior speed, the quinjet was already leaving them far behind. The whole operation had taken just over five minutes from start to finish, and they were free!

 **Author's End Note:** Hooray for Bucky's mysterious backpack! Totally a last-minute addition on my part, but I have no regrets. The escape plan has its flaws, I'm sure, but I can't feel too badly about it. I have to figure that if Steve can single-handedly take down the Raft Prison without his shield, then he and Falcon together can certainly get Bucky away from the CIA.

And I'm really not trying to make Tony the bad guy here. He's just dealing with a lot of unresolved pain and grief, and the best thing for both him and Bucky right now is a whole lot of distance between the two. As for T'Challa and Natasha, I wanted to bring their characters into a position similar to what the movie showed, just in a shorter amount of time here. Hopefully it all worked out. And never fear, this isn't the end of the story. I still have lots of fun things in store for our boys…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Now continuing into a multi-chapter affair. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no profit from my literary endeavors.

 **The Wrong Side of the Glass**

 **Chapter 4**

Bucky still hadn't spoken since his liberation. He currently sat on the floor in the rear of the jet where Steve had left him, cradling the backpack in his lap like a lost pet that had miraculously found its way home. Incredulity fringed his expression of gratitude as he finally looked up and wondered aloud, "How did you get this back?"

Steve smiled down at him, genuinely relaxed for the first time in days. Rescuing the backpack had honestly been an afterthought in all their planning the day before, but now he was very happy indeed that they had decided to include it. Apparently, it was even more important to Bucky than any of them had realized.

"Afraid I can't take credit for that one, Pal," he admitted freely. "Sharon smuggled it to us, along with the rest of our gear; she's actually Peggy Carter's niece. Do you remember Peggy, Buck?"

Bucky pursed his dry lips together thoughtfully, although he still appeared to be more preoccupied with the backpack. "I remember what I saw back in the museum…but not much more. I'm not sure. Sorry, Steve."

"That's all right, don't worry about it." Perhaps Bucky was just being evasive again regarding the extent of his recollections, but Steve didn't feel a need to press the issue right now. Not yet, with the grief of Peggy's recent passing still clinging to him like a spider web. "Is everything in there? Sharon said she couldn't be sure."

Barnes gave a one-shouldered shrug. "The weapons I had in here are missing, but those will be easy enough to replace. I was worried about these." Here he partially withdrew a couple of ordinary spiral-bound notebooks for Steve to see. "Wish I'd remembered to grab that last one off the counter – the one you were looking through."

Steve blanched, ready to apologize for snooping through his friend's personal belongings, but Bucky went on without giving him the chance.

"About six months ago, I started writing down memories as they came back to me," he explained, still gazing fondly down at the notebooks rather than up at the Captain. "It's not very organized and probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but it's better than nothing. I just figured that…if things ever really went bad for me again, at least I wouldn't have to start over from scratch. Thank you, Steve."

As Bucky met his eyes once more, Rogers couldn't tell if the other man was more grateful for the rescue of his body or of his mind's scattered fragments. He opened his mouth to reply, yet found himself simply laying a strong, steady hand on Barnes' shoulder when no words would come. Fortunately, Sam's voice from up in the pilot's seat spared him the trouble of crafting a verbal response.

"So, Cap – does he even know we're coming?"

Steve grimaced guiltily, giving Bucky's arm one last squeeze before turning to address Falcon. "No, he has no idea. I couldn't risk anyone, namely Tony, tracing the call. I just hope he's there; for all I know, he might be soaking up sun on a beach somewhere."

Wilson scoffed openly at the idea. "Somehow I can't exactly see him spending his retirement that way."

* * *

Even after the demise of SHIELD, the Barton family farm was still technically off the grid, and Steve trusted that Clint would at least hear him out before sending a priority distress call to the rest of the Avengers. With his blessing, this place would be safe enough for a short while. Not even Sharon had known where they were going after the escape from Berlin, a precaution to which she'd wholeheartedly agreed.

Sam landed the quinjet on the far side of the idyllic property, as close to the trees as was prudently possible. Steve had recognized Cooper and Lila Barton playing outside during their approach, and when the three visitors exited the jet, the children went running inside the house to deliver the news to their parents. Of course, it wasn't the first time something like this had happened at their home.

But Bucky abruptly stopped short when he saw them, eyes widening in alarm, and his left hand shot out to grasp Rogers by the forearm. "There are kids here? Steve, are you crazy? You saw what almost happened in Berlin. I shouldn't be near anyone's real-life _family_ right now! Where the hell are we?"

"It's okay, this farm belongs to a friend of mine; it's practically a safe house," Steve answered with all the calm he could muster. To be perfectly honest, he knew he was asking a lot of Clint and Laura by coming here. It was one thing to welcome Captain America into your home, letting him eat and sleep under the same roof as your children; allowing the same of the Winter Soldier, however, was quite another matter.

Hawkeye himself was now striding across the lawn to meet them – alone, but by all appearances unarmed. Bucky reluctantly let go of Steve's arm and stepped back in a fruitless effort to hide behind the friend who had protected from everything else so far.

Barton's expression was difficult to read by the time he reached them. His eyes almost smiled when looking at Rogers and Wilson, the latter of whom he had met on a couple previous occasions; yet his mouth remained pressed in a tight line, which only hardened when his gaze landed on Barnes. Ironically, he did not look at all surprised to see them.

Steve stepped forward and put on his best apologetic face. "I'm sorry, Clint. You know I wouldn't have come here if we had any other choice."

Barton shook the Captain's proffered hand and remarked, "We've been hearing bits and pieces of all the noise you guys made over in Europe. I kind of figured you might come asking for help in one way or another."

"We need a place to lie low and regroup," Steve explained, "to plan our next move. I promise it'll only be for a few days."

Clint gestured behind them. "That jet has stealth mode, right?"

"Yeah, state-of-the-art. They can't track us, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before someone thinks to look for us here. I really appreciate this, Hawkeye."

"Don't mention it." Barton finally cracked a wry smile. "The kids and I can always postpone our water skiing trip until after you leave."

Rogers motioned back to his companions. "You already know Sam."

"Good to see you, man" Wilson greeted their host pleasantly.

"And Clint, this is my friend James Barnes. Bucky, this is Clint Barton, one of the other Avengers."

Bucky nodded once at the introduction, both hands clenching and unclenching nervously at his sides. Frankly, he felt relieved when no obligatory handshake appeared to be forthcoming. He knew who Hawkeye was, of course, and he fully expected that the archer would already be familiar with his identity as well.

"Barnes." Barton eyed him critically in turn for a moment, then declared, "You're one of the last people I'd ever expect as a houseguest, but any friend of Cap's is welcome here, too."

"Thank you," Steve reiterated sincerely on Bucky's behalf after it became clear that his friend still wasn't comfortable enough to speak.

The three fugitives followed Clint back to the farmhouse, and as soon as they stepped inside, the smell of home-cooked food hit them like a load of bricks straight from heaven. None of them had exactly eaten well lately, having been so preoccupied with other things, and it was catching up to the best them. They had liberally raided the quinjet's food and beverage supply on the trip across the Atlantic, but even that wasn't enough to sustain two neglected super-soldier metabolisms for long.

While being introduced to Laura Barton, Bucky again hovered close behind Steve like an anxious kindergartener with his mother on the first day of school. Perhaps Laura could relate to that mental image, because she greeted him every bit as warmly as the other two visitors. However, once their guests had been dismissed upstairs to get themselves cleaned up, she let her true anxiety show.

"I should've known my retirement wouldn't last," Clint lamented after he was alone with his wife. "I'm gone a couple of days, and already the team's falling apart."

"Do you know the third man with them?" Laura asked, looking uneasy.

"Only by reputation," he answered elusively. "If not for that arm, I wouldn't recognize him at all. Nat's had a couple of run-ins with him, none of which ended well for her."

Laura's frown deepened. "He looks even more dangerous than most of your old SHIELD acquaintances."

"He is, although he's definitely not a part of SHIELD." Hawkeye sighed heavily and confessed, "Just between you and me, I'd rather not have him here…but he is Steve's friend. And if I can't trust Captain America, then what's the world coming to? Besides, he did say it would be a short visit."

"And they do obviously need our help," she concurred. "So are you going to tell me anything else about him, or do I not want to hear it?"

Hawkeye's expression turned grim. "I'm no expert on his story, and it probably isn't one you should be hearing. But I'll tell you what: if you still want to know more about him later, ask me again after they leave. It'll be less awkward for everyone that way."

Laura nodded in agreement and kissed her husband to signify an end to the conversation.

Around the dinner table not long afterward, the Barton children shamelessly stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Bucky's gleaming metal arm; even baby Nathaniel, not yet a year old, seemed utterly fascinated by it. Despite his wearing a long-sleeved shirt, the hand and wrist were plainly visible, and it was clear that the prosthetics went farther than that. As for Barnes himself, the children's close proximity alone would have been enough to cause him discomfort, never mind their rapt and undivided attention. This setting of tranquil domesticity felt so totally foreign to him now, unlike anything he had experienced in over seventy years.

"Is your whole arm like that?" the daughter asked, her voice timid in light of such a bold inquiry.

"Lila!" Laura interjected sternly, sending an apologetic glance to her guest in the meantime. "It's not nice to ask people things they don't want to talk about."

"No, it's fine," Bucky broke in, much to the surprise of everyone. Somehow the idea of this little girl being scolded for his sake upset him more than the prospect of discussing his appendage. Turning toward Lila, he replied, a little gruffly, "Yeah, it's the whole arm. It goes up past my shoulder."

On the other side of the table, Cooper's eyes lit up excitedly. "Wow! That's even cooler than Captain America's shield because you don't have to carry it around. It's always with you no matter what!"

Caught entirely off guard by their enthusiasm, Bucky looked to Steve for affirmation and received an encouraging smile in return. He almost permitted himself to relax then – until brave little Lila spoke again.

"Can I touch it? Please?"

This time, the Soldier's startled eyes went straight to her father. Barton held his stare, eyes appraising. "Only if he says it's all right, Sweetheart; it's his arm."

Surprised yet again, Bucky didn't respond in words; instead, he slowly extended his left hand and let it lie loosely on the table, palm upward. Lila scooted eagerly forward in her chair and very carefully ran her tiny fingers along his metal ones, feeling the delicate grooves in between each metal plating. Then she spread her entire hand inside his, only to find that her fingertips barely reached the edges of his palm. Deciding her exploration was apparently finished after that, Lila snatched her hand back from his with a shy smile.

That effectively shattered the moment, as everyone else at the table had been watching them in captivated silence. Meanwhile, Bucky let out a huge sigh of his own when it was over; he didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath that whole time! All his concentration had gone into willing his limb not to so much as twitch during the encounter.

After dinner, Laura shooed the kids off to play, and Steve recounted a thorough version of their story from over the last few days, filling in the more personal details that Clint couldn't have gathered from a distance. Sam offered occasional input as the tale went on, while Bucky, who was arguably the chief character in this drama, contributed nothing.

When they had finished, Clint succinctly deduced, "And now you're collectively the three most wanted men in the world."

Barnes dropped his eyes at that correct assessment, looking downright ashamed. Laura pursed her lips nervously, watching him, but she didn't say anything.

"Yeah, pretty much," Steve confirmed, subdued yet as resolute as ever. "But I couldn't sit back and let them take my best friend away from me – not again."

"I can respect that," Barton admitted, "especially if Natasha did, too. Hell, I probably would've come over there to help if you'd given me a call sooner. I'm already getting bored with my golf game here."

Laura then excused herself to get the kids ready for bed, stating, "I can fix up a couple of guest bedrooms upstairs, but I think someone will have to sleep on the couch – unless two of you want to share?"

"I can sleep in the barn," Bucky suggested at once. "Really, it won't be a problem; it's warm enough."

Clint raised his eyebrows, a little surprised by the offer – but maybe not _that_ surprised. "There's plenty of fresh hay out there, too," he added. "I'm sure all of us here have made do with a lot worse."

Normally, Laura would have protested against putting a guest out in the barn to sleep, but no such argument came from her this time. She still fetched him a comfortable pillow and Clint's best sleeping bag, which suited the Winter Soldier just fine; it beat the vast majority of his previous sleeping arrangements, anyway. He got himself situated on top of the hay there, briefly appreciating a return of the quiet solitude to which he'd become so accustomed.

But then, in a sudden bout of nostalgia, the sleeping bag made him think of his apartment back in Bucharest – yet another spot he'd never be able to call "home" again. He'd been gone less than a week, and already it felt so far away, so very long ago. Was there no place left in the world where he would truly be welcomed? No one left who wanted him as something other than either a criminal or a weapon?

 _Steve wants you…_

 _…but Steve is crazy. He always has been._

Rather than getting inside the sleeping bag tonight, he lay down on top of it, so he could jump up unencumbered if need be. It also occurred to him that his location outside the home would prove advantageous if the farm was attacked; they were still being hunted, after all – another familiar position for the Winter Soldier.

But the real reason he had wanted to sleep in the barn, one he could scarcely admit out loud, was the nightmares. He hadn't actually slept since the night before his capture in Bucharest. Oh, he'd _rested_ briefly in Berlin, but he had never truly _slept_ there. He was bound to fall asleep for at least a while now, and he had no doubt that the usual nightmares would wake him up sooner rather than later. Bucky didn't want to be around Barton's family when that happened, both for their safety and for his own pride, such as it was.

Sure enough, several hours later, he started screaming.

* * *

Steve awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of soft knocking on his door. Sluggishly blinking himself awake, he got up and went to open it. The better part of him expected to find Bucky out in the hallway, but instead he saw Laura standing there, looking somewhat distressed.

Rogers was instantly more alert. "Hey, what's wrong? Is Clint all right?"

Mrs. Barton wrung her hands together in front of her, whispering, "Captain Rogers, I'm so sorry to wake you, but your friend…"

She trailed off, and now Steve could hear it, albeit ever so faintly. Screams from outside. Screams from the barn. Laura didn't need to explain anything more.

"Thank you!" He grabbed a sweatshirt but decided not to even bother with shoes. "I would've slept right through it – and I'm supposed to have 'enhanced' hearing."

Laura responded with an empathetic smile, clearly relieved. "Well, you know – a mother's ears. We wake up over anything."

Once inside the barn, where he could now make out pained whimpering intermingled with the cries, Steve approached his friend with as much caution as he could emotionally bear. Somehow this sight pained his heart even more than the scene back in Berlin that had started everything; because this time there was no Zemo, no one whom Steve could physically target to make Bucky's suffering end.

He knelt beside the assassin, who still thrashed about in his sleep, and gently jostled him by the shoulders. "Bucky? Bucky, wake up, you're okay."

The Winter Soldier snapped awake, perceived another person bent over him, and lashed out purely on instinct. Aided by the element of surprise, he grappled with his "attacker" and soon had the other man flipped over onto his back, pinned underneath him in the hay.

Poor Steve barely had time to employ his basic self-defense techniques. "Whoa, Bucky, it's just me! Hang on, it's Steve."

"Steve?" His face screwed up in a troubled frown, Barnes' body stilled even in the midst of its fearsome battle mode.

"We're at Hawkeye's farm, remember?" Rogers urged him, still fighting to keep those metal fingers away from his throat. "You're safe here; it was just a dream."

"Oh." The tension drained from his muscles like a receding wave, and Bucky rolled off his friend, back onto the sleeping bag, in a most anticlimactic fashion. His breath came in fast, heaving pants. "Was I screaming?"

"Yeah, Buck." Steve slowly sat upright, his heart racing, yet he moved in close again. "Calm down now, everything's all right."

When the involuntary shivering began, Barnes clenched both hands into fists to combat it and continued talking as though to distract himself. "Good thing I was out here; wouldn't want to scare the kids." He then glanced over at his companion, peering through dark, sweat-damp hair that stuck to his forehead. "The serum give you better hearing, too?"

"It did," Steve answered, which was true enough. Bucky didn't need to know that Laura, with her maternally acute ears, had actually been the one to hear him.

Bucky grimaced as another shudder coursed through him, and he pushed his face back down into the pillow, muffling his next question. "What time is it?"

"After three a.m."

"Hmph. Guess I lasted longer than I thought I would." That snapshot of humor, as dry as the Sahara Desert, brought a sad smile to his friend's lips all the same.

"You must have really been tired, Buck. God knows it's been a rough few days for all of us."

Steve sat beside him in the darkness, rubbing slow, gentle circles on his back until Bucky's breathing and trembling had both quieted. Again, Rogers' presence alone was steadying and soothing. He didn't offer to leave, nor did Bucky ask him to do so. After a while, Steve simply lay down in the hay beside him and pillowed his head on the Soldier's flesh arm.

Regardless of whatever shame Bucky might have felt over the situation, he couldn't deny that these tortured dreams were indeed his lot now in the world of "sleep," as it had been for the past two years. Although, with Steve there, he did sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

 **Author's End Note:** Time with the Barton family (so much fluff!) has grown to be a lot longer than I expected, so I've decided to split it into two chapters. That should put us at a total of six for the whole story, I believe. Thanks so much for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary:** A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Now continuing into a multi-chapter affair. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no profit from my literary endeavors.

 **Author's Note:** As usual, a big "thank you" goes out to everyone who's been following and reviewing this story. Your encouragement is very much appreciated! In this next chapter, we see an extended version of that heartbreaking "worth" scene from the movie, and the ominous Red Book makes another appearance. Then there's only one more chapter to go. Thanks for reading, and happy Fourth of July weekend to all of you here in the States!

 **The Wrong Side of the Glass**

 **Chapter 5**

Sam Wilson slept longer than intended, and by the time he woke up the next morning, the entire Barton family had already eaten breakfast and was going about their day. Groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes after such a good night's rest, he walked past Steve's empty bedroom on the way downstairs and was therefore surprised not to find the man himself in the kitchen when he arrived.

Already suspecting the worse, Sam accepted a steaming cup of coffee from Hawkeye and lamented, "Oh, no. Don't tell me the two supers got up early and left me behind?"

"Nope, they're still here," Barton allayed his fears. "Cap just ended up in the barn at some point, too."

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam shook his head at that, and Clint had to suppress a chuckle.

"They haven't been inside yet, either; must have been a long night if even they're still asleep."

"Dude, it has been a long _week_." Wilson sighed wearily. "You sure they're all right out there?"

"Oh, yeah. I peeked in just to make sure everyone was still alive, and they were both asleep like a couple of puppies all cuddled up together. Adorable, really. I even thought about taking a picture, until I remembered how many unpleasant ways there are for Barnes to kill me if he ever found out."

"Isn't that the truth?"

As if on cue, the pair of super-soldiers themselves made an entry. Hardly a triumphant entry, however, as bits of hay stuck in their clothes and hair as a remnant of their brief wrestling match.

Sam smirked instantly and couldn't resist teasing, "Looks like you two had fun rolling around in the hay last night; sorry I missed it."

The remark earned him a long, tired stare from Rogers, along with a harder-than-necessary shove from Barnes when the assassin wordlessly walked past him.

"Hey, watch it!" Falcon exclaimed when the blow knocked him off his feet and into one of the dining room chairs.

"It's your own fault, Man," Clint chastised without a trace of sympathy. "You've gotta let those sleeping dogs lie, as the saying goes."

After breakfast, the three visitors spent their day helping with chores around the farm. For Steve, it meant a day haunted by bittersweet memories and déjà vu, particularly in regards to Tony. He wouldn't give up this time with Bucky for anything, but Steve would be lying if he said he didn't miss Tony's companionship right about now.

 _Don't steal from my pile._

Rogers almost said the words aloud himself, just to lighten the mood, even though his pile of firewood was already the biggest by far. There were only two axes available for splitting wood, and those had gone to Steve and Sam; Bucky just used his hands, with a glove covering the right one to protect against excessive splinters. Sam raised his eyebrows at first, greatly impressed by the display, until Captain America demonstrated that a metal hand wasn't really necessary to tear a log in half.

"Show-off," Steve still jibed a short time later when Barnes' pile nearly equaled his own. Bucky just grinned right back at him and ripped another log cleanly down the middle. After so many days of being cooped up in various fashions, this physical activity was a welcome change for all of them.

"Hey!" Clint called over as he approached. "When you guys are done with that, maybe you can give me hand with my tractor. Damn thing died out in the field last week, and I haven't figured out how to tow it back into the barn yet."

Steve shielded his eyes against the sun and peered in the direction Hawkeye had indicated. "Shouldn't be a problem; we'll get right on it."

Despite many protests and eye rolls from Sam and Clint, Steve and Bucky alone made short work of hauling the dead tractor out of the field by hand. They didn't even break a sweat going up the incline that led into the barn.

"It's not just Barnes, Cap," Wilson declared when the task was finished. "Both of you are hopeless show-offs."

* * *

All the work he had done throughout the day should have made Steve tired enough to fall straight to sleep that night; instead, he lay wide awake in his own bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. A nameless anxiety had gnawed at him ever since he'd first lain down, making him toss and turn until finally he decided to just stop fighting it. There was no sense worrying over something he couldn't even identify, and for all he knew, maybe he wasn't the only one having another restless night.

Steve slipped outside as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to disturb Laura for the second night in a row, and drew in a breath of cool night air as he walked toward the barn. If Bucky was asleep, Steve had already determined that he would let his friend rest in peace; after all, he didn't much fancy another "roll in the hay," as Sam had so aptly described it.

The first thing Rogers saw when he stepped inside the barn made him smile; two sleeping bags had now been laid out in the hay, no doubt courtesy of Laura. But then his smile vanished an instant later as he realized both were empty, with no sign whatsoever of having been used that evening.

Bucky was gone.

 _Oh no. No, no, no…_

Steve nearly had a panic attack of his own right on the spot. This couldn't be happening! And now he understood that it had been his underlying fear all along – fear that Bucky would think he had a better chance of escaping or surviving on his own and run away again. Leaving Steve behind.

"Bucky?" A litany of curse words raced through his head as he rapidly searched all corners of the barn; even Tony would have been impressed by the variety. "Bucky?"

When the barn yielded no clues of his friend, Steve ran back outside and stood there in despair under the open sky. The Barton farm was surrounded by forest on all sides; how could he know where to even begin?

"Bucky!"

Captain America staggered around in a circle, beginning to feel light-headed. Had they really gone through so much, only to lose Bucky again now? Had the Winter Soldier reemerged with enough strength to pull Barnes away from his one true friend and protector?

 _Please don't do this, Buck._

"Bucky!"

"Stop shouting, Rogers! For cryin' out loud, you'll wake up the whole house."

That blessedly welcome voice came from above him, and Steve craned his neck backward to see Bucky up on the barn roof. The Soldier sat with his knees drawn up, staring absently at the stars on this perfectly clear night. Steve's legs went weak with an onslaught of relief, yet he pulled himself together long enough to climb up the side of the barn and join his friend on the rooftop.

Bucky raised an eyebrow when he arrived. "You know, it would've been a lot easier if you'd just come up through the loft. That's what I did."

Rogers huffed indignantly and took a seat beside him. "Hey, you heard Sam earlier today; apparently, I'm as bad a show-off as you are. So what are you doing up here?"

"Couldn't sleep." Obviously. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Steve sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "I just…wanted to check on you; see how you're doing."

But Bucky wasn't fooled for a second; he knew _exactly_ why Rogers was there. "I'm not gonna run away, Steve. Not now."

The Captain looked away, ashamed. "I know – and I'm sorry. Call it a habit, I guess. But after two years of looking for you without a trace, it's hard to believe that you really are here now. Part of me keeps expecting you to just disappear again, and I don't know what I would do with myself if you did."

"Yeah, well…for the first time since you started chasing me, I don't have anywhere else to go."

Steve balked. "Did it really feel like I was 'chasing' you?"

"I'm just callin' it like it is, Stevie," Barnes counted wryly. "Maybe you were hoping that, after I'd exhausted all my other options, _I_ would come to _you_ instead."

That struck a little too close to the truth for Steve's comfort. Even with broken memories, Bucky still knew him freakishly well!

"Were you ever tempted to?" he prodded carefully, and a short, dark laugh answered him.

"Right, imagine that – the Winter Soldier taking refuge with the poster-boy Avenger." Barnes ruefully shook his head, and his voice grew quieter. "I never wanted to cause you any more trouble than I already had."

"Is that why you never let me find you?"

Bucky's silence was as good as any affirmation, although he eventually admitted, "It seemed best for everyone; just look at us now. A couple days in my company, and you're the most wanted man on the planet, right along with me." He sighed heavily. "You shouldn't be here, Steve, and neither should Sam. Maybe it would be best if I went off on my own again. I'm sure the task force would see me as the bigger threat, which would mean less energy spent chasing the two of you."

"Forget it," Steve broke in immediately. "Bucky, that is not an option! If I didn't expect to be on the run with you, I wouldn't have rescued you in the first place. Same thing goes for Sam, too; he knew what he was getting into. I even tried to convince him to stay behind, but he wouldn't have it. We want to help you."

He had intended the words to be an encouragement, but frankly, they just made the Soldier look even more miserable. He would no longer meet Rogers' eyes, and his throat worked in silence for a while before whispering, "I don't know how I'm worth all this to you."

Steve heart shattered! What could he possibly say to ease the decades' worth of guilt and shame on his best friend's face? His own throat tightened painfully as he offered, "What you did all those years, Buck – it wasn't you. You didn't have a choice."

Bucky's blue eyes shimmered in the moonlight. "I know…but I still did it. I can't possibly be worth all of this to you, or to your friends who have helped us. Like Barton and his family."

"Trust me, Clint knows where you're coming from; he understands."

"Maybe, but he would never do all this just for me; he's doing it for _you_. Steve, you have good friends because you are a good friend – like Black Widow said, back in Berlin. Even if I didn't remember a damn thing, I could still see that now. I know you were my friend before; but after everything I've done, and what Hydra turned me into…I don't deserve your friendship anymore. She was right about that, too."

So Bucky had been listening to that conversation, after all – and he'd held onto the one part that Steve would have most wanted him to forget. He reached out and gingerly took hold of the Soldier's left hand, not wanting to startle him; the metal fingers closed reflexively around his own.

"Bucky…how much do you think I really deserved your friendship all those years ago in Brooklyn? You could have left me to fend for myself so many times, and no one would have blamed you – me least of all. But you stayed with me, through all the fights I couldn't possibly win and all the sickness I couldn't beat on my own. You never let me down, Buck, and I can only hope to be as good a friend to you now as you were to me then."

Bucky nodded, a few tears finally escaping down his cheeks then, and he didn't resist when Steve pulled him into the comfort of a close embrace.

"Thank you, Steve," he offered, simply yet sincerely. He wrapped his arms around the other man's broad shoulders, hiding his damp face against Rogers' collarbone.

Steve would have happily let this moment go on forever, but sadly, even the best things must come to an end. When he felt that Bucky's tears had dried, he slowly stood and pulled his friend up with him.

"Come on, Buck. Let's go to bed, huh? I'm tired, and it would be a shame to waste that extra sleeping bag Laura brought down."

* * *

Steve yawned and rolled over in his sleeping bag the next morning, hearing the hay crunch underneath him as he did so. He had slept surprisingly well, all things considered, but something was different now. The warm, solid weight that had been at his back all night long was missing. Steve opened his eyes, and sure enough, Bucky was gone. Again.

"Bucky?"

His voice, still rough with sleep, received no answer, and all remaining drowsiness evaporated in a flash. Had last night on the rooftop been nothing more than a dream?

 _Calm down, Rogers,_ he scolded himself. _Bucky's still here, he hasn't gone far. If you really do trust him, it's time to start showing it._

All the same, Steve quickly extricated himself from the sleeping bag and hurried inside the house, hoping to lay his fears to rest once and for all. When he stepped into the living room, the scene before him simultaneously melted his heart and stole his breath away.

Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Clint's children as they watched the morning cartoons. Lila colored a picture for him, while Cooper spoke at great length about the powers of each superhero in the show. Baby Nathaniel, seated on a play-mat nearby, kept throwing his toys over and over again so that Bucky would have to retrieve them for him, and Steve bit down on an outright laugh. He'd seen plenty of babies and toddlers play that particular "game" with their parents.

But what touched Steve most of all was how at ease Bucky appeared to be while sitting there, genuinely enjoying himself. Although he didn't say much, the kids clearly appreciated his attentions and patiently-listening ears.

It really was a shame they couldn't stay.

That evening, Clint fired up the barbeque for dinner, much to Sam's amusement.

"So the Avengers' Master Archer is now a Grill Master. Seriously, you got your own super-secret sauce yet?"

Hawkeye shrugged but took it all in stride. "Well, I do grill a mean bratwurst, if I do say so myself, but I'm still working on that prize-winning sauce. Maybe if you guys would actually let me stay retired, I could make some progress on it."

The brats and hamburgers were admittedly fantastic, as was Laura's homemade potato salad. But just as the kids (and Steve) had finished making s'mores and Clint was closing up shop for the night, Sam was struck by a sudden bolt of inspiration.

"Hey, Barton, hold on a sec!" he called out. "I think I've got another use for your grill here."

Wilson ran inside the house and reappeared shortly with Hydra's red book clasped in one hand. Of course, he and Steve had packed it along for the trip; they certainly couldn't have left it in Berlin for someone to find.

"Sam, that's brilliant!" Steve exclaimed in agreement. "I did say we would burn it."

Clint didn't question the decision or even think twice about it. He only said, "I've got lots of lighter fluid."

After their host had doused the book thoroughly, Steve solemnly handed a box of matches to his friend. "You do the honors, Buck."

Barnes lit the match with two steady hands, a fact which made Steve uncommonly proud, and soon the tiny flame had grown to consume those hateful pages. They could all agree it was an appropriate ending for the book from hell.

Bucky just stared silently as the flames performed their dance in the twilight, looking both mesmerized and haunted at the same time. For such a small thing, it represented a massive victory for him, and Steve could have sworn that the omnipresent burden on his friend's shoulders looked a little lighter afterward.

* * *

With the kids tucked away in bed sometime later, the adults in the home sat gathered around the kitchen table to discuss the inevitable departure of the three fugitives. Someone was bound to show up here looking for them sooner or later, and each of them knew deep down that it was time to move on. An hour and a half later, they had considered a couple of potential destinations, only to prove that all of them were ultimately unsuitable.

"I know a place where we can go."

It was Bucky's first suggestion of the night, and he had made it reluctantly, as though he'd long been debating the wisdom of mentioning this idea.

"Is it a safe house?" Clint questioned.

"Even safer," Barnes informed him. "It's remote, well-fortified, and will already be stocked with weapons and provisions when we get there. There will probably be clothes that actually fit us, too." That last remark had come about because, while Sam was able to make use of some of Hawkeye's clothing, the two larger soldiers were simply out of luck in that department.

"It sounds ideal," observed Rogers. "So why do you look like it's the last place on earth you want to go?"

"Because it is. I promised myself I'd never go back there."

Steve had been afraid of that. Already dreading the response, he dared to ask, "Where is it?"

Bucky's eyes dropped to a swirl of wood on the tabletop. "In Siberia. It's the Hydra bunker where I was…kept in between missions."

"Aren't there any other old Hydra safe houses you could go to first?" Clint asked with open concern, but Barnes glumly shook his head in reply.

"I either used or destroyed the ones I knew about before getting to Romania. You Avengers took out a few in that time, too – not that I'm complaining."

Steve set his jaw in customary determination. "We'll think of something else, then. I won't make you put yourself through all of that, going back there."

"No, Steve," argued Bucky, the most forceful he'd been since his reunion with the Captain. "There are plenty of places in the world to 'lie low,' but that won't cut it this time. We need to _disappear_ for a while, maybe a long while, and Siberia is the best place for us to do that. Remember, I 'hid' there just fine for seventy years. No one would ever expect us, especially me, to go there willingly. And I'll be all right, so stop your worrying."

"Telling Captain America not to worry about his friends is like telling the sun not to shine," Sam remarked grimly. "It's just not gonna happen."

Bucky didn't respond to that, only declared, "We can leave in the morning. With that jet's advanced stealth mode, it won't matter if it's day or night when we go."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Barton concurred. "But before we start any packing, you boys need to come with me for some target practice."

"Target practice?" Steve echoed, not missing the way Bucky's shoulders drew up defensively.

"Yeah, that's right. As long as he's here, I want to see how the Winter Soldier handles a bow."

Hawkeye then led them to a well-concealed clearing in the woods that was obviously an archer's paradise. A wide array of targets were set up at varying ranges, and there were even lights that could be turned on for night practice such as this.

"No pressure," Clint said lightly as he handed Bucky his best compound bow to use. "I won't tell you how well Captain Perfect here did on his first try, but secretly, I hope you can beat him."

Barnes began the experiment with hesitation, as archery had never exactly been part of his Winter Soldier training. Even so, it took only a few shots to determine that he was _good_. Not quite as precise as Hawkeye, naturally; he was hitting the bullseyes, although not necessarily in dead center. But Bucky could also self-correct his aim and technique without any prompting from Clint, which the latter found to be most impressive.

"Yep, definitely better than Steve's first time, I'd say. What's your secret?"

"If it's a secret, I can't tell you. I could go for a bow with a heavier draw weight, though."

Bucky smirked, and for the first time, Clint caught a bit of mischief sparkling in those blue eyes. He dished it right back.

"Sam's right, you are a show-off."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary:** A Civil War AU for Bucky's interrogation scene. Steve reaches the cell in time to stop Zemo before the trigger words are complete, leaving Bucky's mind caught in mid-transformation. Now continuing into a multi-chapter affair. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and make no profit from my literary endeavors.

 **Author's Note:** My apologies for taking so long to get this final chapter posted! Maybe I just don't want the story to end. So thanks to everyone for your patience, and for accompanying me and the boys on this fun little adventure! I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

 **The Wrong Side of the Glass**

 **Chapter 6**

Before her guests departed the following morning, Laura supplied them with extra toiletries and blankets, along with perishable food that they surely wouldn't find in the bunker – bread, cheese, fresh fruits and vegetables, etc. And as a special treat for the road…

"The kids wanted to make cookies for you boys before you left, as a thank you for helping out around the farm." Grinning widely, she handed Bucky two zip-lock bags stuffed full of fresh chocolate chip cookies, with the words "Thank you!" and "We'll miss you!" written in permanent marker on the outside.

Barnes accepted the present with a grateful smile of his own, the most genuine one Steve had yet seen from his old friend. After all, this was easily the sweetest gesture (both literally and figuratively) in the recent memory of all three fugitives.

"Thank you. I…really do appreciate everything you've done for us." Bucky looked at both Laura and Clint as he spoke, a bit hesitant but totally sincere in his choice of words. The time spent in this tranquil place had definitely improved his state of mind since the departure from Berlin. Like Steve and Sam, he was sorry to leave, but the Soldier knew even better than they did how necessary it was. He also understood that much darker times and places lay ahead of them now.

Hawkeye knew it as well, and so he wanted to give his friends a positive sendoff. "Happy to help where we can. Good luck, you guys! And don't worry; I'll make sure the kids know that the big guy with the metal arm was never here."

Clint waved farewell as the jet took off, watching until it disappeared above the clouds, and then he slowly turned to go back inside. It was time to have that Winter Soldier conversation he'd promised Laura – if she still wanted it.

* * *

Under Bucky's navigation, Steve guided their quinjet to the forsaken Hydra bunker in Siberia, concealed so well beneath a harsh terrain of rock and snow. However, apart from Barnes' directions to the pilot, few other words were spoken on that long journey; even Sam seemed unusually subdued.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Rogers worriedly pressed his friend as the trio later stepped out of the jet and into the bitter Russian wind.

"I'm sure." Bucky nodded firmly, although his wavering voice begged to tell a different story. With nervous energy, his hands shifted the rifle he had taken from a weapons rack in the back of the jet; he had also loaded and holstered a couple of pistols.

"What are those for?" Wilson asked, frowning. "I thought you said this place was deserted."

"There's…something we need to take care of first. Before we do anything else."

Without another word, the Winter Soldier entered the access codes to get them inside the bunker and then led them on a grim descent downward. At one point, while in the elevator, Steve thought for sure that Bucky's mind had strayed into another time and place altogether. He wasn't moving a muscle, barely even breathing, and his eyes had lost all focus. He looked remarkably like a trapped animal, and the old-fashioned "caging" surrounding the elevator certainly didn't help that impression.

"Bucky? Bucky!" Steve tried more sternly after an unsuccessful first attempt. Barnes' troubled eyes moved to his face, and Captain America offered an encouraging nod. "It'll be all right."

When the elevator stopped at its lowest point, Bucky silently brought his companions through a labyrinth of musty corridors to the central chamber.

"What the hell is this?" Sam immediately wondered aloud.

He and Steve both stopped short at the bizarre sight before them – a semicircle of matching cryo chambers, five of which were currently occupied. The scene looked like something that belonged in Star Trek, which Steve had recently crossed off his "list," rather than on planet earth. And how Steve's heart ached to think of the years upon years that Bucky had spent in exactly this state!

"I wasn't the only Winter Soldier," Barnes explained softly. His blue eyes jumped from chamber to chamber, never lingering long on any individual assassin housed within. "These five used to be Hydra's most elite kill squad, even before they were given the serum. We're lucky no one found them here before us and woke them up."

"Amen to that!" Falcon fervently agreed.

Five precise bullets later, the bunker was secure. Knowing that they couldn't just leave the bodies there to rot, the three runaways pooled their strength to haul the corpses up to the surface and pitch them one by one over the side of the nearby cliff. Bucky pointedly avoided Steve's gaze as they watched the dead soldiers tumble limply down into the icy gorge, limbs flailing about like puppets without strings. Even if the flashbacks were sure to trigger more severe nightmares than usual for him later, right now he could pretend it didn't bother him – for Steve's sake, if not his own.

With that unpleasant chore out of the way, they then explored the rest of the bunker and found it to be just like Bucky had predicted: secluded, abandoned, and stocked well enough to last them a few months. Once they brought in all the remaining food and weapons stores from the jet, they truly would be in a good position. Physically, at least.

Mentally and emotionally, Bucky could already feel his strength beginning to break down. Yes, it had been his idea to come here, and he understood the practicality of it. But when their explorations led to a control room adjacent to the cryo chambers – the room with The Chair – he seriously debated if it might not have been better to simply turn themselves in. That damn chair. The task force had used a similar one in Berlin, and Bucky had kept expecting a bite guard to be shoved in front of his face the entire time. No wonder he hadn't been able to sleep in it!

The chair, the cryo chambers…it was all so horribly overwhelming, both to his memories and his physical senses. And despite _knowing_ full well that they were only ones in the bunker, he still jumped and spooked like a jittery horse every time he passed by a group of shadows. Some fearless assassin he was!

By unspoken consensus, none of them wanted to sleep alone in this dismal place, nor would Steve have allowed Bucky to attempt it, anyway. As expected, all of the beds were either chained or bolted down, so Barnes easily ripped three of them free with his left hand before dragging them into a common area outside the tiny barrack rooms. He and Steve pushed their beds close together, while Sam's went on the other side of the room. No one mentioned aloud that the arrangement was as much for Sam's protection as for the two super-soldiers' convenience. If Bucky were to lash out in his sleep, an unfortunate probability, it would be best if Steve was the one close by to take the brunt of it.

Sam playfully dubbed their arrangement "the world's most depressing sleepover."

"That may be true," Steve admitted, "but at least we aren't sleeping behind bars. I just wish we had something to help pass the time."

"Way ahead of you, Cap! Guess what I found in one of the barracks?" Wilson triumphantly held aloft a deck of playing cards. "There are a dozen variations of poker that I can teach you guys."

Amused, Steve cracked a smile for the first time since their arrival. "Really? And what are we going to bet with?"

"How about bullets?" Bucky suggested with a shrug. "No shortage of those lyin' around here."

"Good idea, James! The more powerful they are, the more they're worth." Sam's enthusiasm about the idea was contagious, as all of them had deeply needed a light-hearted moment like this.

They spent the next several hours playing cards on Barnes' and Rogers' combined beds, consuming both bags of chocolate chip cookies along the way. Sam and Bucky shared a laugh more than once over the Captain's inability to bluff at poker, but Steve was happy to be the butt of the joke if it meant seeing his two dearest friends smile under these extreme circumstances. He could tell that Bucky especially needed a distraction. He was putting up a bold front, most likely for Steve's sake, but it couldn't be easy for him to be back in this place – literally the site of his worst nightmares.

And sure enough, the nightmares wasted no time in returning to torment their favorite victim. Bucky woke up crying that first night, choking back an all-out scream before it could be realized. Trembling and panting heavily, he glanced over and saw that Steve still slept beside him undisturbed. Although relieved not to have woken his friend, a small, childish part of him almost wished that he had. Bucky gingerly placed his left hand less than an inch away from Steve's right, which lay stretched out toward him on the mattress, but didn't actually touch him. Then he hid his face in the pillow, both to muffle his breathless sobs and to block out the shadows that haunted him on all sides.

But Steve finally heard him and woke up of his own accord, taking the metal hand in his own and intertwining their fingers. He didn't say anything, just allowed his friend to cling to him like he had done back in the cell. Steve squeezed back to reassure Bucky of his presence, though he could never quite match the strength of that mechanical grip. It felt like surely his finger joints were about to pop out of place, or maybe the bones themselves would snap in half; but he didn't once complain, or even think about breaking the physical contact that served as Bucky's lifeline.

When the tears had subsided, Rogers scooted closer and laid an arm across Bucky's shoulders, very gently massaging the back of his neck until he relaxed and they both fell asleep again. All this had been accomplished without a word being spoken, and they had even managed not to wake Sam.

If only all of their nights could have been resolved in such a peaceful manner.

Bucky's nightmares grew progressively worse as the days wore on, and in turn his awakenings from them became more and more violent. Usually, after pushing away his bedmate, Barnes would press himself into a corner and there battle the violent terrors of his own mind. Each incident took longer than the previous for him to recognize Steve as a friend while the other man tried desperately to calm him down, and Sam urged Rogers to allow the Soldier his space during these moments of panic. So far, when given enough time, he had always come back to them under his own power and then been more than willing to accept comfort and reassurance afterward.

Steve knew Sam was right, especially given his background as a therapist, but that didn't mean he could always heed the advice. Sometimes it was just too much seeing his friend like this – huddled in the corner again and shivering like he had in Berlin. Once, when Rogers' concern overrode all sense of self-preservation, he came too close too soon, and Bucky lashed out at him with all the ferocity of the Winter Soldier.

The distraught Captain wasn't nearly as alert as he should have been in this situation, nor did he have his shield in-hand when he approached; he had vowed to himself that he would never use it against Bucky again. And so Barnes caught him in the unprotected ribs with a swift kick, and Steve dropped to his knees with a grunt as the breath fled from his lungs. It never had a chance to return either, for the Soldier immediately latched onto Rogers' throat with his left hand and _squeezed._

"Steve!"

Thankfully, Wilson's cry of alarm was enough to bring Bucky back to the present. As suddenly as they had come, the metal fingers released their hold, and Steve gasped for air around the painful spasms of his throat. He fell back from Barnes, and Sam gripped his shoulders to pull him even further away, never mind that Bucky was now watching them through eyes filled to the brim with horror and self-loathing.

When Steve had adequately caught his breath, he brushed Sam's worried hands away and again drew near to the unstable assassin in their midst.

"Stubborn fool," Falcon muttered to himself, though he made no move to stop his friend.

"Bucky?"

Steve crouched in front of him, still heedless of his own safety, and gently laid his hand on the other's knee. But Barnes only shook his head, unable to look Rogers in the eye as he stammered out an apology.

"I'm sorry! I hurt you again. Oh God, Steve, I'm so sorry…"

Tears streamed openly down Bucky's cheeks now, and he looked so thoroughly miserable that Steve himself stumbled over what to say next.

"It's okay, Bucky, there's no harm done. You should know by now it takes a lot more than that to really hurt me."

His attempt to lighten the mood failed epically, as it only reminded the Soldier of how he had almost killed Captain America on that helicarrier over the Potomac. Of all things to remember at such a time…

"I don't think I'll ever be free from them, Steve." Barnes' entire body drooped as he spoke, dejected and defeated. "Not really – not in the way we both want."

A new sort of pain threatened to close off Steve's throat now. "You shouldn't say things like that, Buck."

"Why not? We all know it's true. I can try to bury it, like I did after the fight in Washington…but I can't kill it. Not without killing the rest of me."

Steve's instant dismay must have shown, because all of a sudden Bucky was the one seeking to placate _him_. "Now, wait, just hold on before you freak out! That's not what I meant."

"Well, it's what I heard," Rogers challenged, only marginally convinced. "Don't scare me like that!"

Bucky sighed heavily, his eyes still downcast. "You know what I mean, Steve. Everything Hydra did is still there, deep down inside of me…and I'm starting to think it always will be. All the more reason not let anyone get too close; I never know what I might do, or when."

"No, that's all the more reason _not_ to push people away. At least, not the people who want to help you; people who understand the risks but just don't give a damn – because they care about you."

"I don't deserve that, either; look what I almost did to you."

 _Oh, brother._ _Hadn't they already had this discussion?_ Steve ran a hand through his blonde hair, aggravated at feeling so helpless.

"Then we need to go somewhere else. Bucky, I can't stand watching you go through this night after night; you don't have to torture yourself!"

"Right – because there are plenty of other people who'd love to do it themselves." It was the Winter Soldier's macabre attempt at humor. "But you can stand it if I can, Stevie. If there was a better place for us to go, we would already be there. I just wish I could think of something different as long as we're stuck here."

And there was the clue Steve had been waiting for! Now he knew what to do, what new approach to take.

"Hey," he prompted, leaning closer, "do remember the time when we had to ride all the way home from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?"

After a moment of concentration, Bucky finally glanced up at his friend in gratitude and rewarded his efforts with a tiny, melancholy smile.

* * *

"Someone's here! They're coming for us!"

"What?!" Bucky's wide eyes flew up from the notebook he'd been reviewing. Between Steve and the journals, they'd had some success lately keeping Barnes' mind preoccupied with pleasanter memories; but no memory could hope to distract him from Rogers' unprecedented announcement that they were no longer alone in the bunker. "How is that possible?"

"Steve, are you sure?" Sam likewise questioned as the three of them made a dash for the weapons stores.

"I'm positive!" the good Captain insisted urgently. "We've had this place sealed up tight ever since we arrived, and now there's airflow in places that could only be if the main entrance was opened."

"What if someone saw the quinjet from the air?" Falcon suggested. "We never did get it hidden all that well, except it should be covered in snow by now."

But Bucky snapped, "It doesn't matter how they found us! They're here now, so all that matters is who 'they' are. No one outside of Hydra should even know this place exists."

"The task force might have read something about it in the Hydra files Natasha made public – or maybe Tony did." Personally, Steve would bet all his bullets that Stark alone could more quickly decipher that data than a whole team of technicians working for Ross.

As there was no time for official suits, the trio grabbed their weapons and took up defensive positions guarding a hallway which the intruders would have to use in order to reach them. Rogers stood furthest ahead with his shield, while Barnes and Wilson waited behind him with guns at the ready.

Still half-expecting Iron Man to materialize out of the murky darkness, Steve whispered, "Unless they start firing first, let's wait and see who it is. If we are about to get caught, I don't want to make things even worse for us."

"I'm not sure that's possible now, Cap," Sam grimly observed, though he did agree with Steve's assessment of the situation. If Hydra was returning for their five frozen assassins, at least there wouldn't be any conflicted feelings about killing every single one of them – however many there might be.

Bucky leant forward, listening intently, and then held up a single finger to indicate that he could discern just one set of footsteps – which only added to their collective confusion. Who could it possibly be?

One step at a time, a tall figure in a black trench coat gradually emerged from the shadows, and Steve reflexively lowered his shield.

It was Nick Fury.

 _Him,_ of all people! But how?

Rogers stepped into the open hallway, offering himself up to Fury's limited visibility.

"Nick?"

"So there you are! Somehow I'm not surprised." The former Director of SHIELD took a few steps closer and then stopped, resting his hands on his hips. No doubt he was armed, yet nothing about his posture suggested that he had come here for a fight.

Steve stole a glance behind him, noting that both his companions now wore matching expressions of shock and amazement on their faces. And while Bucky didn't question how one of his last targets was still alive, he was still clearly on-edge about the Director's intentions. It was understandable, all things considered.

"At ease, Soldier," Fury addressed him directly. "No hard feelings about the last time we met."

That reassurance was sufficient for Rogers, who motioned for the other two fugitives to officially lower their weapons and join him in this odd "truce," of sorts.

Nick went on, "You boys have caused quite a panic out there in the free world, Captain. Do you have any idea how ridiculous airport security has been since the three of you disappeared?"

Sam just scoffed. "Did they forget we've already got a jet of our own?"

"Panic and intelligence generally don't mix well," Fury acknowledged. "But I've built up a pretty large intelligence network on this side of the Atlantic over the past two years. Barnes probably knows that better than you do, Rogers, and we've been looking for this place for a long time. The rumor of five more Winter Soldiers waiting in the wings for Hydra was too critical to ignore once we learned of it. Just one of you was bad enough." Nick's lone eye looked at Bucky as he finished speaking; for him, it was _almost_ a joke.

"We already took care of them." Steve sounded very much like a soldier reporting to his commanding officer, a thought that seemed to amuse the Director greatly.

"I'm sure you did. So now, unless you'd rather stay in this depressing place – how would you three like to join me in the club of the presumed dead? It's a great place to be when the rest of the world is out to get you."

"The 'presumed vanished' would suit me just fine," Rogers chuckled. "Bucky and I have already done the whole 'presumed dead' thing. And yeah, we'll go with you – as long as it gets us away from the world's most depressing sleepover."

Fury raised an eyebrow at that and again looked in Barnes' direction. "I'm kind of impressed you've been able to sleep here at all."

"Some of us have more than others," was all Steve would divulge with a weary sigh. Bucky really did look exhausted now, ghostly pale and with dark, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. It would be _so_ good for him to finally get out of here!

They all stayed in the bunker a couple more days to help the Director gather as much useful information as possible. Then, for good measure and with no small amount of personal satisfaction, they blew up Hydra's stronghold from the inside; Bucky in particular derived a great deal of pleasure from the act. It was time to leave this wretched place behind him once and for all! The Winter Soldier still wasn't dead, but at least his birthplace had been reduced to nothing more than another memory in the notebooks.

There was just enough fuel left in the quinjet for them to again travel the width of Russia and follow Fury's helicopter back to his hideout in the northernmost fjords of Norway. Fortunately, the Director's new base of operations was just as remote and secure as the Siberian bunker, but decidedly less stressful for recovering super-assassins. When asked about his choice of location, Nick confessed to hoping that Thor might revisit one of his favorite haunts of old the next time he returned to earth.

Fury's generous offer of hospitality extended indefinitely, for however long his visitors required sanctuary from the outside world; and they all knew that might be a long while, indeed. Of course, extenuating circumstances might someday arise that would warrant Captain America's return to battle, but they would still need to exercise great caution and discretion before again interfering in world affairs. And only if things became really, truly desperate would the Winter Soldier publicly fight alongside him.

In the meantime, at least the three friends had each other.

Two weeks later, after the runaways were all comfortably settled in their new surroundings, Natasha Romanoff arrived in Norway unexpectedly for a quick visit. She had located Fury and been in regular contact with him since the fiasco in Berlin, but she'd known nothing about his latest guests; the secret, however, would be perfectly safe with her.

"I'm glad you boys found each other," she remarked, looking smug but smiling all the same.

Steve greeted his friend with a tight hug, delighted to see that she had maintained her liberty after helping them escape the task force. But his first question, loaded with concern, had nothing to do with her.

"How is Tony?"

Black Widow's expression sobered a little as she replied, "Stark was in full Avenger mode for a long time, trying to track you all down. He's calmed down a little since then, I think, but only time and distance will help heal his wounds. It's probably best you guys escaped, or else things would have gotten even worse between you and him. We might have had an all-out civil war on our hands."

"I'm glad it didn't come to that – at least, not to physically fighting each other." Captain America cringed at the thought. "This rift will be difficult enough to repair as it is. Have you talked to him recently?"

"No, I've been keeping my distance. He strongly suspects, but so far hasn't been able to prove, that I helped you escape in Berlin."

"Please help him if you can, Nat," Rogers entreated on Tony's behalf. "He needs a friend, but I don't think it can be me right now."

Natasha nodded empathetically. "I will. He's not an easy patient, especially now that Pepper's out of the picture, but I promise I'll do my best to look out for him. Even Iron Man needs someone to watch his back every now and then."

Steve's blue eyes shone with gratitude. "Thank you. I don't expect you to tell him this, but just know that if he or any of the other Avengers ever need us…we'll be there."

 **Author's End Note:** And this is where I end it, hopefully on a note similar to the movie. Except that Bucky's beautiful arm survives, and Steve still has the shield. And best of all – there's no cryofreeze technology in Fury's hideout, so Bucky and Steve will now be forced to spend more quality time together! Goodness knows they could both use it. Thanks a bunch for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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